Equilibrium
by Angelic Arria
Summary: Jet's a mafia leader in danger of loosing his position to Vicious, Julia, Vicious's battered girlfriend is tired of being pushed around, and Spike who has been looking for Julia finally found her only to be caught up in Jet's mafia situation.
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1

He took a long drag out of his cigarette, tapping the ashes on the side of his car while he drove along the main street of the city. In front of him lie cars full of men tormented by demons and possessed by sexual drives. As his arm hung haphazardly out of the window Spike smirked at the men in front of him, thinking of how pathetic they must be to solve their problems with fifty dollars and one hour in a hotel room with a professional prostitute. He could see them sitting by the bed telling the hired out, faceless whores their life stories or deep, theological reasoning. Their thesis's, their conclusions, their issues, would all be relieved from their own weak shoulders and placed onto the shoulders of the most destitute of people in the world. 

Spike never approved of hookers; the women tried so hard just for fifty more dollars in their pockets and a further depletion of innocence. However, while in traffic, a guilty pang hit his side as he thought of the hired out whore that he would buy to pump for information. Looking at the selection, he spotted one not wearing a full mask of rogue and eyeliner. She had the outfit, with the tight leather shirt and plunging neckline, but her face was surprisingly only painted with lipstick and maybe mascara. Her naturally full eyelashes made it hard to tell. This prostitute clearly had something the others didn't, pride. No heckling or catcalls arose from her lips and she even appeared bored standing there on the sidewalk surrounded by the lowest creatures in existence. Her eyes were full of fire and life, she had not been reduced to this state, and rather it looked as if she chose her own profession. 

As his car inched slowly closer to the woman he spotted, her purple eyes whirled onto his. Holding out a fifty-dollar bill, Spike waited to see if she would go for the bait. 

Smirking, the woman snatched the bill from his fingers and stuffed it into her shirt. Looking him over, she rolled across the hood of his car and slid in through the open window of the passenger seat. Her agility caught him off guard, but Spike concealed his surprise with small effort.

"I'm Faye," the hooker said in a low, seductive voice. She bent down to tie her shoe revealing the entire preview seen by her shirt. "So where we goin'?" She asked, frowning that her shoe trick didn't work. Spike kept on staring straight ahead, smoking another cigarette. There was a hesitation in the talking, so Faye, growing frustrated attempted to talk again, "did you hear m-"

"I heard you. If you would just wait a second before talking maybe you could have heard the answer." Spike snapped, smashing his cigarette bud into the makeshift ashtray balancing on the dashboard. "We're going to New Haven Hotel on 32nd street."

"New Haven? That's a dangerous part of town," Faye meant to sound more concerned then enticed but her excitement had overcome her. Her client gave her a questioning look, and continued staring straight ahead. "Anyway, what's your name?"

"Why is that important? Are you going to add my name to your list or something?" His no tolerance for people in a profession such as Faye's was keeping his civility at bay.

"Actually, I do keep a running tally of my clients. You would be five hundred." Faye teased a little, playing with a lock of her raven black hair.

Spike sort of chuckled in spite of himself. "It's Spike," he replied with a smile.

"Spike. Hmm, sounds like a dog," 

Spike shrugged, he had been called worse before. Turning into the parking lot of New Haven he noticed a visible change in atmosphere. The main street felt like a highway, waiting in a line that never moved a noticeable feeling of rush hit the people driving. Yet on 32nd street, the ambiance was fear. On the corners lurked shadowy figures and the police sirens wailed on a constant high. 

However, Spike instantly took a liking to the street and the blocks beyond it. In his traveling, he always felt most comfortable in the more dangerous places. His kind of people lived there, people who had been cast out of society or who had suffered incredible injustice in their lifetimes. Violence solved their past; it made their futures unstable and their present a remedy for the memories. By living in constant fear for their lives, those who lived in places like 32nd street managed to get by or else are shot. Desperation ruled all.

"So this is our hotel?" Asked Faye, her disdain apparent.

Spike grunted and climbed out, taking it all in. The ramshackle hotel would be the perfect home for him for a few weeks. Maybe even a month or however long it took him to grow tired of the town. Spike was a permanent drifter. 

"Are you coming?" Faye called from the door of the hotel, eager to get her business over and done with. 

The room, of course, was run down, with a broken mattress that squeaked under the slightest pressure and a bathroom stained with urine and grime. A florescent light swung down over the sink, and the faucet was leaking in a steady stream of drops. "Home sweet home," Sighed Spike, as he tossed his bag lightly on the bed. Faye arched her eyebrow at this move, and collapsed in the overstuffed chair by the sliding glass door. She let a cigarette thinking this guy was not going to get down to business until the end of the hour.

"So where's your life story?" She questioned listlessly, swinging, her legs over the arm of the chair and she exhaled smoke.

"I didn't hire you to tell you about my problems. I need information," Spike responded, sitting opposite her on the bed. His hands restlessly wrung themselves together over and over. His eyes, which she noticed were different colors, stared intensely at hers. There was no lust there, only neediness; he certainly wasn't like most customers, she thought to herself.

"What kind of information?" She returned quietly.

"You're familiar with the people around here? On 32nd street?" He asked feverently.

Faye paused, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Do you work for the police or something?"

Spike let out a bitter laugh, "Me?" He sobered up quickly. "No, I'm looking for Jet Black. He lives around this area. You wouldn't happen to know him would you?"

"It's your lucky day, Spike. Jet Black is most likely my most frequent customer." Answered Faye.

Spike bit his lip for a moment longer, and his hands began to wring themselves at a quicker pace. All he could think about was her.

A chance meeting in a dark hotel room had changed his existence from a lost soul to a seeker. In the night they spent talking, he developed a bond with the mysterious Julia that he had not ever felt before. Since that night, close to a year before, he had gone to every major city on the planet in search of his Julia. She was quiet about her past, but of her present she was fluent and detailed. The specifics had blurred into his memory, but her pleading helplessness had drawn him to her. Wherever she was, Julia was suffocating in a world she could not comprehend, much less survive in.

About two months ago, Spike had made a connection linking Julia to Jet Black. Jet ran an underground organization in Celerion, across the planet from where Spike was. Sucking it in, Spike gave up his life in Valin and headed from small town to small town making just enough money to go on. He hit a lucky break 177 miles outside of Celerion and finished his journey quickly. 

An informant tipped him off about the use of prostitutes for information. "Get one that talks and you'll be set," the tired old man had warned Spike, before breaking off into hysterical, dry laughter. 

"I could arrange a meeting between you two. I'll be seeing Jet tomorrow night,"offered Faye, in an effort to fill the silence.

"No, I can't wait. I have to go tonight," Spike insisted.

Faye began chuckling, "There's no way you can infiltrate Black's Ring. The cops have tried it for three years now. They'll never trust you,"

"Maybe so, but I can't sit on my ass and wait for Black to be served to me," His agitation caused him to stand up, and walk over to the window. 

"All right, Black likes low places; you know bars and the works. If he's not passed out at Patrick's he's at some club with his pals. I suggest if he's not at Patrick's to leave him be. With his crowd, he could be a dangerous man to mess with." Said Faye calmly.

Spike took a deep breath and put his hand to his forehead. Faye watched him in fascination; this man had to be the most original person she had ever had the pleasure of doing business with.

"We have twenty minutes left, do you want to talk or..." Faye began cautiously, shifting positions to make her self look more appealing. Her pose had become a natural one, and a favorite of her regular customers. It worked its charm on Spike well, for he had been on the road for many weeks without so much as a tender touch. 

While Faye began unbuttoning his shirt, he vowed that he would find Jet Black at all costs that night in order to see Julia by daybreak.

*************************************************************

Walking into Patrick's bar that night, Spike picked up on Jet Black's presence immediately. He was a grisly man with a metal arm, drinking alone at the end of the bar. By the looks of it, Jet's sorrows were immense, and his eligibility to hold liquor high. His line of shots ran half the counter. His beady black eyes whirled upon Spike. "Sit down, newbie. I'll buy you a drink," 

"That's okay, I can buy my own," Spike held a hand up to the gleeful bar tender who was already pouring a shot glass. Shrugging, the bar tender drank it himself and stood cleaning glasses, just as it was typically expected of a bar tender to do. 

"I like you, newbie. Most of the guys in here wouldn't refuse a drink from an old drunken fool. Hit me again," he directed, with a sudden urgentness in his voice.

"Are you sure you want that?" Questioned Spike, reaching for the glass, before Jet's fingers could grasp around them.

Jet grew serious, and through his blood shot eyes Spike sensed a deep guilt, and allowed Jet to take the glass. "Of course I want it." He grumbled as another dark shot disappeared into his mouth. Shaking his head a little, Jet peered over at the new comer again. Even in his liquored haze, Jet picked up on something in the man's appearance that struck a chord deep within himself. This man could be trusted, yet the newcomer possessed slyness, a mandatory skill for a mobster to have. "What's your name newbie?" Jet mumbled, curious to get to know Spike.

The newbie hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether or not to blow him off, like he had done Faye. Yet he needed to get to this man to see Julia, being unnamed wouldn't aid that at all. "Spike," he answered confidently, sitting beside him.

"Spike, eh? I like it; it suits you well," returned Jet. Indeed, he thought, this man could not have any other name. "Mine's Jet,"

"I know," Spike replied, "I came here to find you," 

Jet looked surprised and a little dumbfounded, "What do you want with me?"

"I have a business proposition for y-." Spike began, but Jet cut him off.

"Please, save it. I'm in no state to talk business. I'm going home, now. You can talk business to Vicious, if you want." 

Spike frowned a little, but accepted the invitation willingly. Each lumbering step he took with Jet that short walk from the bar to Jet's home brought him closer to Julia.

Finally, Black went up a set of stone stairs to a rather luxurious apartment building. It was odd to see a little green garden out in front, and polished door knobs on the red door. If he had to choose Jet's home, Spike could not have ever picked this one. Going inside, Jet called out for his associate, Vicious to come down. Instantly, a lanky blond man appeared at the top of the stairs. His ice blue eyes whirled coldly to Spike's, showing his obvious distrust. 

"Who is this?" Vicious questioned Jet; unable to control his fury at Jet's bringing a stranger home. 

"This is Spike; he has a proposition for us. I want you to hear him out," Jet demanded, stumbling down the hall and into a room. Alone with Vicious, Spike's good humor diminished and he became ill at ease. 

"The office is up here," Vicious announced coldly.

Slowly, Spike ascended the stairs, careful to look as if he were in a hurry to get there. The office was a small one, with two chairs, and a desk in between. Vicious sat shuffling papers as Spike came in. 

"What do you want with Jet?" Vicious demanded, searching Spike's countenance for signs of weakness. To his dismay he found none.

"I have a proposition for you," began Spike.

"I don't want to hear it right now; I want to know what you want with Jet," Vicious snapped.

"If you think I'm trying to catch him or something, you're wrong. I'm no cop," Spike returned, growing impatient.

Vicious sat unaffected, acting as if Spike had never responded. "That's what they all say. Jet's too damn gullible. Four times he has led a cop right home. We have moved often because of it. Each week it seems we'll have to pack and go on."

Spike pulled from his pocket a warrant for his own arrest. He had pulled it off a cop in Valin before he left. "I'm no damn cop," he replied forcefully, handing the paper to Vicious.

Vicious did not touch the paper, but analyzed it for authencity. "Very well," he answered, through gritted teeth. Spike followed his gaze at it moved suddenly to the door. The cold glare disappeared from his eyes and a faint trace of warmth replaced it.

"Jet says that he wishes to see you downstairs, Vicious," a familiar voice said, but to Spike's ears, the voice sang. Turning, he at last beheld Julia. 

Her astonishment, though clearly trying to be masked, was evident. "Hello Spike," she whispered softly.


	2. Default Chapter

Chapter 2  
  
Vicious just stared at her, unable to express his rage. His fists began shaking, and worsened as he saw Spike's immediate reaction to seeing his girlfriend. Finally, he cleared his throat and walked over to Julia, kissed her and then went downstairs to answer to Jet, knowing full well that he left Julia alone with Spike.  
"Your boyfriend, he's a nice guy," Spike smiled, his heart sinking at the thought of Julia dating Vicious.  
Julia managed to return the bleak smile, her surprise slipping away from her face. "Yeah," What else could she say? It was not as if he asked her how she felt about Vicious or how he frightened her to death. She could not possbily tell this man, (who she had only met once) about her problems with her boyfriend of three years. Obviously he had not forgotten about their meeting, about that night. Julia had meant it to be a chance meeting, never to see that man again. She had done it before, with different men, but she could not fool herself with this one- she too had felt it.  
"What have you been up to?" he questioned, more sheepishly that time. All Spike could think about was Vicious's kiss with Julia. How intimate their relationship must be, he thought. After all, with him and Julia, it was just talking, it was just sex.  
"I have to go," Julia said, her eyes slightly pained. Then, she walked away, with Spike still standing there, still wondering what the hell he had been thinking.  
Within ten minutes, Vicious came up into the office, and Spike explained to him the details of his business proposition, which had to do with a rival mobster to Jet Black, called Crimson.  
"I have a score to settle with Crimson," Spike muttered, his mind racing back to that night.  
He used to work with Crimson, as a trained hit man. He would knock off those who couldn't make the payments Crimson required. Spike did all the dirty work, the backstabbing, and anything involing untimely death inside the mafia. It had grown strained between Crimson and Spike, when Spike was ordered to kill a civilian who witnessed one of Crimson's shootings. Spike refused, and walked away from the mafia, hoping to keep up his good terms with Crimson. It was not so, Crimson hired another hit man to assisnate Spike. On that night of the assisnation, Crimson's man accidently hit Spike's friend Edward. The shot was fatal.  
To this day, Spike trembled at the thought of Crimson being near him. When he discovered that Crimson too was in the city, it made his mission to infilitrate the mafia even easier.  
"Don't we all," Vicious's wry response jolted Spike back to the present.  
"I know you've lost a hit man reccently, the last time the cops came by. In that way too, I could help you out," Spike slowly answered.  
"How do you know that? Parker's arrest happened in the middle of the night. He shot himself before they cuffed him."  
Spike's mouth curled into a slight grin. "You need a new hit man. There is no way you could have replaced a man like Parker in three days. I'm offering you my services, I suggest that you accept them. Crimson's a dangerous man,"  
Vicious's face reddened in anger, "Listen, Spike. I don't know how you get your information and I don't care, but what I do know is that your services sure as hell aren't needed. Don't let the door hit you on the way out,"  
Spike nodded, understanding that for now, he could do nothing but wait for Vicious to decide that he really did need him. Before going, Spike scrimbled his phone number down on a sheet of paper and slipped it into Vicious's pocket. The blond man did not notice, and angrily slammed the door of his office behind Spike. On his way down, Spike found Julia, standing at the foot of the steps.  
Her eyes searched his pleadingly, and she grasped his arm, "What are you doing here?"  
"I came to do business with Jet," Spike returned, curtly, looking away from her, unable to meet her eye. A part of him burned in embarrasment, he must have appeared so ridiciolous in her eyes. Yet those eyes had never left him, with their deep green ring full of sorrow and confusion.  
Julia, taken aback, stepped aside, visibly offended, but a knawing in Spike's stomach refused to let him go without another remark . Frustration for not being able to hold her, to be with her made him say, "Isn't life just full of irony? Before I found Jet all I wanted to do was see you again but now that I've found you....." His voice trailed off, his damaging end to the sentence refused to come out. His voice had constricted for he had made the lethal mistake of looking into her eyes.  
The deep emerald orbs shimmered as she mummured,"I didn't think you would go looking for me, Spike,"  
The way she said his name made him cringe. So caring, so melodic. It brought the bitterness out of him, and looking back at her, he smiled grimly, "Well you did."  
  
A few days passed with Spike sitting in his hotel room, not knowing where to go or what to do. A few times he thought of calling on Faye again, he sorely needed company. Still, his pride crippled him, forcing him to simply smoke cigarette after cigarette, watching life in the city to pass by. On the third day, the phone rang at midnight.  
"Spike?" the voice demanded, sounding unfamiliar to him.  
Instantly awake, he replied, "Who is this?"  
"Black, we need you to come down here. Crimson's up to something," the voice replied, and then Jet disconnected.  
Spike leaped out of bed and pulled on his clothes from the day before. He fumbled for his gun in the side drawer before running out to his car. In no time he pulled up at Jet's home, and found a small crew of Jet's men out in the lawn smoking. Julia even stood on the steps, appearing tired, but anxious. In fact, the only person seeming calm was Vicious. In the midst of worried faces, his blank, expressionless one stood out like a sore thumb. Nothing but jealousy got to that guy, mused Spike to himself as he approached the crowd.  
"I'm glad you came, Spike," Jet commented, stepping out to greet him. His eyes seemed earnest, but his mouth was in a smirking grin. A few audible snorts sounded, from Vicious's area. Spike bit his lip, it figured that Vicious had supporters amongst the crowd. It took talent to remain as emotionless as Vicious appeared to be, it had to be admired by those who took emotions to be a sign of weakness. I'm glad I'm not in that camp, Spike thought. He shook his head and he replied, "I'm just as anxious to kill Crimson as any of yours,"  
Alarmed, Jet answered, "We can't just go around killing our enemies, Spike. We have to keep it legal around this city. Besides, the cops are already on us so it wouldn't do to have a murder on our hands,"  
"I'm sorry, I just thought that was the way things went around here," Spike said curtly, glancing up to see Vicious scowl. Clearly it seemed that this had been an issue before- Vicious needed to kill, and Jet needed peace. Spike slowly began comprehending the way the mafia was ran. As he stood there, talking specifics with Jet, he sensed a cluster forming around Vicious.  
"I could off him, boss," said one burly man, wearing a cliche leather coat, and speaking with a heavy New York accent.  
"If anyone kills Crimson, it will be me. Besides, we have other business to take care of first," Vicious answered quietly, also throwing a glance at Jet. For a second, his eyes gleamed, like a lion's do when they first spot their prey. The trusting, fatally obvlious, giant stood deep in conversation with Spike. Vicious knew that Jet would never believe that his own right hand man did him under. If only Spike got out of the picture, which could be possible with Julia's help.  
Vicious saw his girlfriend watching Spike with intense fascination. His insides curdled at her lovesick stare. Never had she looked at him that way, even after all he'd done. For her to throw herself at the first stranger who says her name was ridiculous. Always straining at the lead, always going away for a few days without warning, Julia fascinated him. She was a mystery he couldn't solve, a problem he couldn't comprehend. There was a part of him that sensed the life he lived and the life Julia lived was challenging, a struggle from day to day, which made her so unhappy, so unsatisfied. He had no pity for her though, which eventually had forced Julia to seek the few days of freedom she took every month. Usually he was very protective of her, not allowing her to go anywhere or do anything without someone else knowing. A typical precaution, and one that irked Julia often.  
"If we can't kill Crimson, why did you call me over here?" Spike questioned, as Vicious allowed himself to focus again on the present situation.  
"He keeps sending his people to mess with my business," Jet growled.  
Spike shot a questioning look to Vicious, he had neglected, in all of his research, to learn about Jet's day job.  
"Your bank will be fine, I'm sure. You've increased secruity by ten percent since the last break in. No need to send Girl Scout in," replied Vicious, with a firm glare to Spike.  
"I'm sending Spike in to see what Crimson's up to. Spike has a fresh and an unknown face, he could pass for a civilian." Jet insisted, glowering at Vicious.  
"He's not unknown. Crimson and Spike go way back, he'll be recongized for sure." snapped Vicious, unmoved by the glare.  
Jet's face went red as his anger noticably increased. "I'm the leader here, Vicious. My words goes until you inherit this postion. He's going with Julia, just so he can get a feel for the ropes. He won't be discovered because he'll just be watching from the car."  
"Why is Julia going? It only takes one pair of eyes to see what's going over there," The outburst was the last thing anyone could expect to hear from the icy blond man. His protectiveness could not mask the jealously in his tone.  
Spike grunted in disgust and took out his cigarette. Jet spoke a few words with Vicious in quiet tones and the blond man went inside without another comment.  
"Let's go, Spike," Julia said, as she walked towards an old car on the street. It its prime, the car displayed proudly a forest green color, now only remainents of the paint covered it, where the rust had not already eaten away at the exposed metal. The seats were in worse condition.  
"Can we take my car? That piece of junk won't get us to the corner." Julia seemed a little hesistant at Spike's suggestion.  
Jet watched them closely, noting the tension between the two. No wonder Vicious was so against the young man, he was atrracted to his girlfriend. Parker also liked Julia, and Jet knew that it was no suicide that killed the man.  
Behind him, Jet heard Vicious and Smith discussing something. A feeling of unrest had overcome the small group that Jet held so close. He suspected Vicious wasn't too pleased with the way things were turning out with the Crimson case.  
There would always be disatisification among the camp, Vicious did not realize that. The blond man acted too inexperinced, too discontent, too young. Jet would have gladly surrended his position years ago, had the right hand man been more reliable. Though organized crime was not the best business, Jet's ring had a name to protect. A name Vicious would surely slander. Though not an old man, Jet was reaching the end of his prime. He began fanaticizing what a normal life would be. To keep himself content, Jet purchased a bank. Vicious sensed the sign of weakness, as any alert man should. It kept the mafia busy, but not with mafia work. It through the police for a loop. Crimson's ring owned no businesses, it seemed more suspicitble to be discovered. Always, especially in the cinema, there was hint about business. The 'family business' was always something to do with the removal of waste or something. Not so with Jet's mafia. By night they were a mafia, by day they were citizens.  
Vicious could not deal with that, but his loyalty to Jet had not yet faltered. He was a fearless, bold young man whom Jet respected. No other man could fill Vicious' postion better. Except for Spike. If Spike deemed himself worthy.... Jet shook his head. He could not think of such dangerous things. His men respected Vicious and himself. Change would destroy his ring.  
The roar of the car signaled the departure of Spike and Julia. The groups dismembered and went their seperate ways.Vicious took Smith up to his office and they talked in low voices until Spike finally returned.  
"What happened?" Jet questioned, throwing down his cigarette, and leaning over the car. His eyes searched Spike's calm face.  
"Nothing really. We waited outside the bank for nearly an hour, but there was no sign of anyone. Except for a cop who was taking this girl home, but that's another long story," Spike responded. Nothing at all had happened he thought, having hoped that being partnered with Julia, his efforts of getting to the city would not seem so pointless. Julia had been businesslike and more, she showed no signs of ever knowing Spike before. Except in the off moments when silence reigned the car, and she would through long side glances at him. Then, Spike would eventually since her gaze and turn towards her. She was too fast and had already moved her head. She appeared like she had never moved. Three times this occured. Spike wished to say something but he could not bring himself to. After his angry comments from before, it was up to her to make a comment. Anything friendly word would suffice. Unfortunately, she was quiet, as she should be.  
Vicious trained her to be like this. To show no emotion, and to survive without tendernes. Damn him, Spike thought, his eyes drifting towards the young woman in the shot gun seat. Her leg kept twitching, almost nervously. Entranced Spike tuned out Jet's response until finally Julia tapped him on the knee.  
"I have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow morning," she said softly. Spike gave her a puzzled look, and she continued, "Jet wants you here tomorrow in order to plan the next move."  
"Right," Spike smiled, and he gave her a mock salute. She climbed out of the car, and held the door for a moment, and then walked away. The hesistation filled him with hope. Perhaps Vicious's training had not been entirely successful.  
Either way, the next day would be an event to look forward to. In the mean time, he could perhaps pay another visit to Faye. A curiousity with this Vicious sparked him to discover more about the man. Looking in his review mirror, he eyed the blond man with malice, for Vicious had slyly slipped his arm around Julia's waist and it trailed to her upper thighs.  
For an instant, Spike had a feeling that Vicious was laughing at him, knowing that he could see. He shrugged it off and headed out to the bar. He could not sleep anymore this morning. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
At noon, Spike gave a thought to going back to Jet's lot, and waiting for new orders. He sat in Patrick's bar, with a few shot glasses in front of him, still not completly intoxicated, but with senses dulled enough to make him useless. A mafia doesn't plan he thought sourly. They take action. He mulled this over, and then decided not to go. It would look like he was too desperate if he followed Jet's every command. Nothing had happened last night. Nothing. The words, having been thought about in the car only hours before, sifted slowly through his thoughts. Nothing had happened- especially not with Julia.  
As if the subconscious saying of her name summoned her, the tall blond appeared, walking into the bar from across the street. Looking as if she had a set purpose, her jade eyes remained fastened straight ahead. Unlike last night, her outfit was nothing too stealthy. In fact, her skirt and blazer screamed of a business woman.  
Of course it did,thought Spike, she probably worked in the bank. Perhaps that was were Vicious had met her. And continued to romance her. To kiss her, to hold her. To make love to her. Jealously with a mixture of envy sharpened Spike's senses. He had never wanted her as much as now, when she was Vicious's whore. That's all she probably meant to him. An outlet for his sexual needs.  
He watched her order a scotch on the rocks. Must have been a hard day, he thought, if she's getting a scotch this early.  
"Are you sure you want that, pretty lady?" the bar tender questioned, polishing a glass with an odd glint of amusement in her eye.  
"Serve me or I'll take my business elsewhere," Julia snapped. Her impatience surprised Spike and the bar tender. Neither expected a voice so hard to come from a face so soft. It was the same sort of tone she had used with Spike earlier.  
"I think you'd be better off with a martini or something." offered the bar tender, reaching for the shaker.  
Julia's face contorted and a red flush rose to her cheeks. Her mouth opened to remark when Spike stepped up behind her. "Give the lady her scotch."  
This time, the drink less relunctently made. Grumbling under his breath, the man pushed the drink out in front of Julia.  
"If you think that was going to make me notice you, you're mistaken." commented Julia, whirling around to Spike.  
"Just trying to help," he casually replied.  
Julia glowered. "Oh, so I owe you one? I could have gotten the god damn drink myself."  
Spike smiled, "Well sure but it would have taken you longer. You know Patrick's got the best deals,"  
"Spike, whatever the hell you're doing here is you own damn business. Just leave me out of it. What we had was one good night of sex. That's it." her tone trembled a little, whether from anger, passion, or hurt Spike couldn't distinguish.  
"What has he done to you?" he muttered, casting her a concerned look.  
"Just leave me alone, Spike." This time, Julia put her drink down and looked away. Trying to repress a shudder, Julia collected her things and began to leave.  
"Wait," Spike demanded, grabbing her arm. To his surprise, she didn't protest. In fact, her reserve broke down and tears began slipping out of her eyes. She fell into his arms and held on to him for awhile. The bartender sat and watched, like he would watch a movie.  
"Let's go," Spike said gently, leading her outside. She nodded her head and pulled away so she could walk on her own. Brushing the fallen tears from her eyes she tried to regain some of her control.  
They went back up to the hotel room, and sat on Spike's bed. Julia leaned her head against Spike's shoulder and stared out the window. One time, a lone tear rolled out of her eye. Spike caught it on his pointer finger and flicked it away. He turned so he could look her in the eye.  
"There's nothing to worry about, you're safe here." his words floated in the air for a second, resounding in his head as a lame line. Julia managed a smile, but did not respond. I'm not safe anywhere she thought. Vicious said that to her, when they first met.  
At the bank she worked in, there was a hold up. One of Crimson's men had killed a cashier and had Julia at gun point. Frightened, she followed out his orders unaware that Vicious and some of Jet's people were present. The police remained outside, with the chief shouting out orders. Crimson's man did not answer, merely pressed the cold steel against her head and whispered in her ear what to do. The man's arm wrapped around her chest squeezing her tightly. His scent engulfed her, so strong it remained with her even now. A chewing tobacco smell mixed in with a light spermint. On the whole completely revolting. After securing her in his grasp, he forced her over to the doors. The tears came faster now, she knew in a few moments, this man could kill her. Her terror heightened with each step they took. Suddenly, a shot rang out. Julia thought she died. She felt no pain, and the weight that held her fell. Opening her eyes, she saw the robber dead on the ground, a bullet hole in his chest. The blood reached her shoes, a scarlet red on the white marble floor. Overwhelmed with relief and disgust, she felt her legs sway underneath her. As she fainted, she was caught, by Vicious. His partner held the smoking gun.When Julia came to, she was looking up into Vicious's eyes. As cold as they were, she felt a sense of secruity. "There's nothing to worry about. You're safe here," he told her.  
After that, they began dating. After the first year, Julia's sense of secruity left her. Vicious often hit her, forbid her to go certain places, and kept her in his room most of the day. She could go to work but only if she was accompained by one of Jet's men. She hated her escorts, all were vulgar and treated her like a merchendice. One man, a tall, lean, beared man with beady black eyes asked if she would sleep with him for one hundred dollars.  
After that, Julia left undetected so she could avoid that escort. Vicious eventually found out, and left her unconscious on the floor of his bedroom. Things improved when Vicious became a respected person in the mafia. Fearless, and without a conscience, he killed many and tackled dangerous stunts. He receieved the penthouse to Jet's apartment building as a susbidy. Julia had more space then, and Vicious was in general a happy man. During that time, she felt rewarded for staying with him through the dark time before. When Vicious left the spotlight, Julia began to worry again. More often than not Vicious arrived to the penthouse in a bad mood. Sex would always be painful and he would be rough. After only three weeks of this, Julia began to leave for days at a time. She would go to work, and then never come home. At first, she would only room at a hotel across time. She saw of Jet's men there one time, and the only way he would keep her secrecy is if she would sleep with him.  
After that painful experience, she went out past where she grew up, which was three days ship travel from Celerion. Vicious, in all his work, sometimes didn't notice she was gone. When she returned, she would find him passed out or gone with beer bottles littering the place. The thought of leaving him never occured to her. Julia feared him too much. After she met Spike, Julia's visits to the outside slowly stopped. The connection she felt with him could happen again, and as it was it endangered her relationship with Vicious. While she and Vicious made love, she would think of Spike, and their night together.  
Then he showed up at the door, wanting to speak with her. She could not have been more shocked, and yet a part of her always wanted him to come. To sweep her off her feet and take her far away from Vicious. But then Vicious came, and began keeping closer tabs on her. He sat her down and interrogated her the day Spike came. He hit her until she told him that he was an old friend from high school. She tried to concentrate on work and on pleasing Vicious at night but Spike kept showing up.  
With out realizing it, Julia began crying again. Spike kissed her forehead and drew her closer. Startled, and awoken from her thoughts, she responded, and kissed him. His presence surrounding her, she forgot all her thoughts about Vicious and her worries about being seen diminished with every tender touch Spike gave her.  
  
It was six o'clock when Julia collected her clothes and prepared to go home. Spike still lay in bed, dozing. She tried to wake him, and was sucessful in getting out the door without making too much noise. As she hurried down the hall, she buttoned her blazer and straightened her hair. She could touch up on her make-up in the cab. Slipping on a pair of sunglasses she headed out to the street and hailed a cab. Now to face Vicious, and to hide what would be his worst fears.  
  
Spike rolled over to face what would be Julia around eight. Startled, he found her gone, and the hotel room empty. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was after nine. Running his hands through his hair, he got dressed. He might as well head over to Jet's place. Since he missed the planning, he might as well show for the action. Spike couldn't help but smirk as he thought of what went on that day. He just wished he could figure out why Julia was so upset. He couldn't fix it, but he could sure give Vicious a run for his money. It feel good to kill that bastard, he thought wickedly. I've only known him for a week and already I feel like smashing his face in. A crowbar should do the trick. One of those ten pounders with little spikes on the end. He wondered where to get those.....  
He wandered out to his car and made the almost routine trip to Jet's. It looked vaccant, not even the front porch light was on. "Shit," he spat, getting out a cigarette. He threw open the car door and walked briskly up to the porch, trying to light his cigarette the whole time. Finally, he did, right before he got to the door. He pounded on it taking out his frustration on the door.  
Finally, someone answered. Surprisingly enough, it was Jet. He looked tired, and disshelved.  
"Oh. Spike. You missed our meeting this afternoon," Jet said bluntly.  
"Where is everyone?" he demanded, looking around inside.  
"I told Vicious to go down to the bank again. Crimson's man tried to get inside today. We think something's going to happen tonight."  
Spike smoked for a second before asking if he should go too. Jet appeared uneasy with the idea, but nodded his consent. "We need all the men we can get. We're one short without Julia. She stayed in tonight, said she needed a night off. She's been up in her room all evening,"  
"All right, I'll head on down to the bank." Spike said, hoping Julia wouldn't be gone tomorrow. He put of his cigarette and headed back to his car. He drove quickly, the streets between Jet's and the bank oddly clear. No cop cars in sight, no pedistrans. It was an odd occurence, especially in such a busy city, in such an industrial part of town.  
A few blocks away, Spike picked out a few of the cars he had seen at Jet's. He parked his behind a red car and walked the rest of the way. The front of the bank looked cheery enough, almost regal. It was no wonder the cops didn't know Jet ran the bank, it looked so normal. Spike strolled in, casting a look around to see if anything out of the unusual was occuring. Two secruity officers stood by the doors, and looked Spike over before letting him through. There was a counter in the center of the small narthex, where a sign read, No Guns allowed. A young man sat, looking businesslike and stern. The secruity officer to the left nodded to the man at the desk who asked in a stiff voice, "Could I have your gun sir?"  
Spike pulled out his larger pistol, keeping the hand gun to his side. He watched the man tag it and place it in a locked box. Handing Spike the key, he commented "Keep your other gun close, and do not take it out for any reason,"  
A little unnerved, Spike nodded, and patted his concealed weapon knowingly. The guards were better trained than he thought. Spike sat down in a waiting chair next to a grandmotherly African woman, dressed in a bright array of cloths. Nothing seemed out of place. All the tellers cheerfully helped their clients, couples came in and got financial advice. Spike even watched a small boy deposist his life savings into his account,and once the money was gone, he began to cry. The mother scolded him quietly and took him out of the bank as quickly as possible.  
He noted that Vicious would come in every once and awhile, through a side door. He too looked about for anything suspicious.  
A teller closed up her counter and began heading home. She gathered her purse about her and primly sauntered off, switching her hips as she went along. At the door, she was stopped by one of the guards. There seemed to be some discrepment as she tried to leave the building. The guard pointed to her bag and began growing angry. The teller screamed and instantly the building went into cahous. The man at the counter took out two guns and began firing on the guards. He instantly killed them both before turning on to the customers. Vicious drew out his gun and began firing at both the counter man and the teller. A young couple leaving also drew out guns, this time pointing them at Vicious, and Spike saw the plot unfold. A graying man took out a knife and held it up to the a teller's throat while he withdrew that right amount of money. Bag in hand, the man walked towards the door. Spike tackeld him, sending the bag flying. One of Vicious's men leaped out of nowhere, and threw Spike off of the robber. Vicious's man retrieved the bag and ran off. Vicious killed the counter man and the young couple before heading off with the teller's bag, the robber and his men. When the door closed hysteria broke loose. Police sirens wailed and the people ran for the exits. Spike casually went among them and walked out to his car, trying to make sense of all the happened. News vans began rolling in, and one man tried to detain Spike for questioning. Spike pushed past them all and headed for his car.  
What if Vicious and Crimson had worked together? What if the counterman, the teller and the young couple were meant to rob the bank and Vicious was supposed to let them do it? But then Vicious had a change of mind and decided that he would rob the bank so he hired the graying old man to do it. Then Vicious would foil Crimson's plan and make off with the original money being stolen and his additional amount. This seemed logical, and from the little Spike knew of Vicious, he could see it Vicious's capable of doing it.  
His mind spinning, Spike finally put his car in drive. He figured he better go report to Jet to tell him what was going on. When he arrived, he saw Vicious and Jet standing in the lawn. Jet looked pleased, and was shaking Vicious's hand. Sensing something, askew, Spike hurried over to them.  
Jet turned to Spike with a cold glare. "You have failed me," he said. 


End file.
